If It's a Day, a Month, A Year: (1/7)
It took five core years and four small-but-essential indie movie roles for Cameron James to get enough clout to get her script turned into a movie. It had actually been a good eight-nine years of torture to get to this point, but she didn’t like to count any of the minor stuff and total fluff jobs she got in her first few years of Hollywood, something to get her foot in the door and pay the rent. She surrounded herself with the folks she had been most pleased with along her way, and started to write her own career with the explicit motive of embracing nepotism. She would keep everyone close and have fun no matter how big or small things were, ignoring the crap roles in Blockbusters, because, you know, they were crap popcorn fests that no critic liked. No matter what kind of attention and money it could bring her.
Jonas, her agent-slash-manager-slash-whatever-else (because she only trusted those she knew really well and paid him well enough to handle it all), totally hated her for that fact, but was sometimes amused by her matter-of-fact ways in denying things. “Jo, you know Nicholas Cage’s ferret hair scares me. I refuse to be in National Treasure 5.”
“It’s only the third one.”
“Yeah, but after a while you’re going to be all ‘Cameron, c’mon, it’s just one more, and one more, and one more.’ Screw that."
There was always a point in the conversation when Jonas became a little menacing and basically threw other people in her face to bully her into doing what he thought was going to make them both money. “Are you going to do the starving artist thing for the rest of your life?”
“Hardly starving here.” And she wasn’t, but she wasn’t rich by Hollywood’s standards, either. She lived comfortably enough, stuffed away in a tiny L.A. neighborhood and spent a majority of her downtime in a modest suburban home outside Chicago. Which she said kept her grounded.
“I can totally bank on The Hills girls and get them money.”
She replied enthusiastically. “Go for it!”
“I will. Don’t make me.” He totally acted like her father and she always laughed at him for it.
“Good luck getting an Oscar out of that bunch of helium sacks.”
He scoffed. “Oscar, yeah, okay. You’re making a movie about a woman who falls in love with someone while her husband is dying. You’re not even going to DVD, it’s straight to Lifetime.”
“Eff off,” she laughed, hiding her tiny bit of fear that it would happen. But she had to believe in herself if her own agent wouldn’t. Especially if her producers didn’t.
They would call non-stop with casting options, and while they could totally make the decisions themselves, and probably should, Cameron was one of those personalities that drew people in to help and she always insisted whatever they did was a group effort. “Group in, group out. We’re doing this together,” she’d say with a partly sentimental smile. She loved working with these people. And they’d known her for years, watching her play the sassy, almost-misplaced second-chair girl among the man’s crowd of the last Judd Apatow movie. Putting in a heartbreaking, when not mellow, guest star on Law & Order. Popping up in relatively small, but impacting indie roles.
And so when it came to finding the male lead for her little script, she had a hard time picking someone who was too well known, or someone utterly unknown. She was fighting for the glorious meat in the middle, while figuring on someone she could match on screen and make it all believable.
Ernie, one of her six producers (she had like NO money to make this movie and no one was big on backing her, so she did her best to round up past people who kind of liked her) called to run down options for men who were available, but not yet convinced to be interested. “Jim Krasinski.”
She kept zipping through the commercials on her Ace of Cakes marathon. “Hmm.”
He didn’t even bother asking what she was thinking, and continued. “Taylor Kitsch.”
“Who?”
“Friday Night Lights.”
“Aren’t they all, like, in high school?”
“It’s a show about high school football.”
“Ern, I know what the show is about. I’m asking, aren’t they young?”
“He’s only a year behind you. Was in Wolverine.”
“Oh,” she sounded thoughtfully, but said no more so she continued.
“Lee Pace.”
At that she laughed. “Oh, I love him, really. But no way. I don’t see it.”
“Cameron, we have to get this done some day.”
“Fine, bring some people in and we’ll see them. Send me the list.”
If she was being honest with herself, she really couldn’t wait until that Thursday when they were coming. She kind of loved screen tests and meeting the actors. Mostly just because she would try her best to not horrify them, betting the others on how far each of them could last before they squirmed in their seats. Cameron was pretty much an evil bitch when it came to tormenting her costars. Somehow, everyone grew to love the humor.
But when Jared Padalecki came in, she had to reign it all in. Not just because he was a delectable eighty feet of tanned goodness, but because she also knew his reputation and was sort of afraid he would match, or worse, beat her humor. She tried to mutter under her breath, but anyone who knew her, knew she didn’t know how to do things quietly. “Bet is totally off now.”
“What? No.” Susan leaned closer. Susan was always enthralled with the screen tests for the exact reason Cameron was, being able to cut in her own raucous amusement with her. And she didn’t want Cameron ruining her day.
She hissed in return. “Absolutely not. I will be murdered right in my place.”
As Jared sat down, he eyed them at the table. All seven of them. Plus a few assistants in the back. “Pardon?”
Cameron swore she heard a tiny Texas twang and sighed, a little delighted. “Oh, holy hell. I’m dead.”
He gave a tiny smile, obviously confused but wanting to be genial. And professional. Cameron insisted someone else make the introductions, and then insisted they also continue to lead the entire audition.
Jared gave gentle smiles through the whole thing, joked minimally - not the level she had seen on gag reels and read in interviews - and basically charmed everyone over. He totally nailed the cautious care she had imagined behind that character’s eyes, but she wouldn’t let anyone in on that. Or how drawn she felt to his vulnerability. She was doing her best to not be impressed, and kind of shrugged after; everyone thought she was nuts.
When Ernie called two days later to discuss the tests that she had vowed to rewatch (she totally didn’t), he was hopeful. “Anyone tickle your fancy?”
“Eh,” she sighed, trying to sound like she couldn’t care less. “Whatever, that Jason kid was good enough. Call him.”
“Jason, who?”
“From Supernatural, the one who always cried on screen.”
“Padelecki? You mean, Jared.”
“Yeah, whatever.” When she hung up the phone, she fought the urge to dance around her kitchen, and instead drank a beer at breakneck speed and smoked a quick cigarette on her deck.
*
And so the film started up in northern California, taking advantage of small, sunny towns. Cameron had a good week or so before Jared came up. She worked with the in-law characters, the husband, settling into the routine before she had to even worry about seeing him. On the first day they shot together, she shot him casual glances with a tight smile, as if sizing him up.
“What’s up?” he asked with the happiest puppy dog look on his face.
“Hey.” Cameron smiled in return. “Oh, yeah, okay,” she immediately said when he wrapped her in a quick hug. As he pulled away, she laughed. “That’s right, you do that. Huh. Okay.”
Jared patted her back as they each moved to their marks. “It’s okay, I don’t bite.”
She waved a hand, going for easy, but wasn’t really sure what it turned out to be. “Yeah, alright.” After a moment she looked back to him. “We gonna have to do that every day?”
“I might make you, yes.” His voice was solid and low, and she had to look over to see if he was kidding. He eventually flashed the bright, bright, so very bright teeth in his mouth and chuckled. “You cool?”
“Yeah, of course I am. That’s why you’re in my movie.”
He laughed again, and she kept hers inside. She didn’t really want him to know how much she enjoyed making him laugh in that moment. Even if she knew right then how that moment was going to make her day.
*
The majority of their filming coasted with each of them working hard to get each scene done just so, but then joking around between takes. She fell into an easy routine of constantly mocking whatever insane things left his mouth, and he tried to top the insanity each time he saw her.
“When you went to that all-girls school, no bunk beds, right? You just all slept together.”
Her voice was always flat in return. “Yeah, Jare. And we cuddled and braided hair when we weren’t taking group showers.”
His eyebrows rose. “Please tell me that is your next movie.”
“I can tell you that you won’t be in it.”
And he almost always smiled no matter what he said - funny or mock-pain. His hand swept across his chest as he spoke. She did her best to not watch him do that. Only because it made her think of how much she wanted to touch him right there, and couldn’t tempt herself with the thought. “You’re going to beg me to be in every single thing you do from here on out. Because I am grade A solid and you know it.”
She laughed. “Solid what?”
His other hand came up and began to rub casually, eventually scratching at the cotton across his chest. “As a rock.”
“Your head is literally too big for this shot. Steve!” she called to the DP. “You may wanna go wide here.”
“For your ass?”
Her head swiveled so fast that he couldn’t hide the smile on his face. Yes, Cameron had an ass, and everyone talked about how she wasn’t a size 2, Made-For-Hollywood girl with flowing blonde hair or model-swiveling hips. She was basically average sized with a pretty face and blonde hair that flipped out past her shoulders. She hated the maintenance of anything longer and refused to spend more than an hour at the gym on any given day. Since people actually gave her money to make movies - even if they were small, she really absolutely loved them anyway - she figured no one had that big deal with it all, so she didn’t try any harder than just staying healthy. Of course, this was all aside from the gossip mags and blogs.
But really, her butt and hips were a tiny bit out of proportion with the rest of her body, and when on at least four drinks, she would willingly - and happily - refer to it as her ghetto booty, and only then, when she was at least four drinks in, would she happily - and encouragingly - talk about her ass and laugh. But in that moment, Jared was kind of horrified by the faces on everyone around them who seemed to know this kind of thing. The set was quiet, almost waiting for her to just give a low ‘alright, let’s go’ to keep people moving, but she just couldn’t. Not when she was on a set with a guy who never seemed to date anyone over five feet or 85 pounds.
Instead, Cameron dug deep into her brain and finally came out with a somewhat tired voice, as if she was more annoyed by having to say it than anything else. “Oh, honey, you wouldn’t know what to do with this kind of meat. Don’t kid us both that you can handle it.”
His mouth, formerly sagging with just a bit of worry, suddenly curved enough to show off his top teeth. “Alright, yeah,” he said gently, sounding impressed.
*
“So here’s the deal. I like getting out with people before we film. I don’t believe in that method bullshit. I just want to know who I’m staring at day in and day out and then we can all be friends and I’m more comfortable behaving like a lunatic then. And you were scared of me or something, whatever, I don’t know, but here we are, finally hanging out but it’s already three weeks in. See, I’m not scary.” Cameron was on her fifth - maybe sixth? - drink. She lost count after the second shot and enjoyed the feel of Bacardi mixing with SoCo shots in her belly. Jared just watched her, a little amused but also kind of worried about what she was complaining about. Especially because she didn’t seem to stop talking.
He looked to the people around them, mostly the producers and a few crew members, wondering if anyone else dealt with the rambling side of her. “I never said I didn’t want to hang out,” he replied easily, working his way out of it - or so he thought.
“Dude,” she smiled, leaning closer. “I asked you to get a drink after the first table reading and you thought I was asking you out.” She laughed, maybe to herself, or maybe at him. She wasn’t even sure as she sucked down the rest of her drink.
“Were you asking me out?”
Another laugh, but this one was sharp. “No. Absolutely not.”
“Really?” And he sounded a little offended, but still smiled. “Why not? I’m used to it.” She only laughed. “I’m a big boy, I can handle it. I just didn’t want to see your little heartbroken face for the rest of the movie when you realized it wasn’t going to work out.”
Cameron pointed a finger in his face, nearly smacking his nose. “I am lovely and wonderful and smart. Why wouldn’t it work out?”
He laughed now. “Because I am awesome and hysterical and absolutely charming.”
She was a little put off by his ego, but still smiled. “Absolutely not.”
Jared stood straight, eyed her, and then leaned closer, ducking his head closer to his. “Really?” he asked, his voice low and silky smooth. Her reply was a raised eyebrow. His hand came up to her shoulder, sweeping some hair away before his fingers dragged along the length of her neck. “I think,” and he paused, dipping his finger tips into her hair, tugging just so. “If you weren’t so defensive and caustic, you would absolutely open yourself up to me.” She laughed and he continued, bringing his face close, rubbing his nose against her cheek and moving back to her ear so he could whisper right there. “And if you had just one more drink, this would totally be doable.”
Slowly, she moved just a few inches away to catch his eyes and force his hand to hold her in place. She gave a small, sly smile. “You mean I’d need more alcohol until you’d be totally doable.”
He chuckled and let his hand drop lower to casually rest at her neck, instead of trying to reel her in “I can’t win with you can I?”
“Not at all,” she replied, shaking her head with humor. “Shot?”
“Oh, yeah,” he laughed.
After the next round of SoCo settled in her belly, he leaned back, casually draping an arm around her back. “So what’s the deal with your ass?”
She eyed him. “It’s attached to my body is the deal.”
“Everyone went all” and he took a deep inhale with wide eyes, “When I made that crack today about … your crack.” He laughed
“Really? No.” She nearly frowned at his amusement.
“It ain’t bad,” and his hand dipped a little lower to purposefully graze it, before pulling his hand back and soundly slapping it.
The alcohol did nothing to hide her laugh and she turned over her shoulder to look down to his hand, still at the small of her back. Cameron smirked. “It’s a pretty nice ass, huh?” An eyebrow rose on his face and she went on. “Family heirloom. I have no one to thank but the Slovaks and their pear-shaped maidens.”
“Nice,” he smirked, slapping her ass again.
She quickly grabbed his hand and tried to sound rough, but the dazed eyes and sloppy smile betrayed her. “You will never touch that ass again. Or else.”
For the next week, it became Jared’s sole mission to find her when she wasn’t paying attention and slap her ass. As hard as he could, to bring about the loudest smack and for her to yell louder than the day before. She fought the want to slap his face, but instead, she started doing the same. It took three days until she felt like a child and stopped. But he didn’t.
*
It was a month into filming, and Cameron felt absolutely comfortable staring at Jared every day. It had taken at least a week to not look away from his eyes, and another week to finally joke back with him, and another week until she was fully capable of busting his ego wide open - though she didn’t do it all too often. But now, four weeks in, she was fully capable of getting through a scene, preparing little jokes in her head while totally nailing the emotion between them. And he seemed entirely casual as he came in before her and hung onset, no matter what time he was needed. As if they both knew they were hitting their stride with little effort and could coast from here on out because the chemistry was flowing just so, giving them that playful yet caring feel, which was mostly what their characters were experiencing throughout most of the story.
They were filming a pivotal scene outside a bar, when their characters run into each other and try their best to casually talk through how each were doing. Him struggling in his career, her struggling with her emotions of her not-so-caring husband in the hospital. All the while, they both know they want the other, and alcohol is encouraging that notion. But they’re both trying to be better people. It was one of Cameron’s favorite scenes on paper. She loved how real the dialogue was and how there was so much insisted between long looks. But getting it to film proved absolutely brutal.
Her next line was to “He never bought me flowers. Never. What an asshole,” in a drunken slur, and then lean into his shoulder with a careful, sad smile.
It took a few takes until she felt fully comfortable with the motion of leaning in and hitting the right spot on his arm so she could carefully turn and not break contact. So when they hit the fifth take and she started her line, he cut in. “Yeah, I know, he never even called. Bastard. I married a bastard.”
She lost it. For no real reason. It wasn’t even that funny, though his tone of voice was a bit higher than normal and gave a tiny lisp. But she just couldn’t focus anymore. And so even when he claimed that he was being good and delivered his reply of “Never? You’re lying,” she always felt something different in his slouch, or in where he accented his words.
“Fuck you,” Cameron laughed, pushing him away from her. He scraped his shoulder blades on the brick of the set, but didn’t say a word, just winced a little through his laughter. “I am doing this scene alone now. Shoot us separately.”
Jared was still laughing. “No, c’mon. I’m good.”
She pointed a finger at him, still smiling. “No, you are not! You are horrible. I can’t believe we picked you.”
He went back to his mark as she settled in beside him, trying to calm herself for the next try. “Whatever, I am the PB to your jam movie.”
“You are absolutely nothing but moldy bread to my PB and jam storyline.”
“Gruyere to your ham sandwich.”
“Blue cheese to my bangin’ chopped salad.”
“What’s wrong with blue cheese?”
“It is green. It is literally covered in mold.”
“Most cheese Is mold, c’mon. You’re better than that.”
“You are cockroaches at my Fourth of July picnic.”
“I am the mimosas to your bagel.”
She was doing her best to not laugh at how ridiculous he was getting. But it didn’t always work, so she’d chuckle just before she was ready to start, and screwed it all up again. “You will not foil me,” she laughed, but only a tiny bit. “I’ve seen your reels.”
He was amused and watched her carefully. “You watched my stuff?”
“Oh, please,” she laughed. “You’re not as good as you think you are. It went on my con list.”
“For what?”
“Pros and cons to Jared Padalecki.” His raised eyebrow prompted her further. “You were not the first choice.”
Then both eyebrows raised as he thought about that. He leaned in with an arm slung around her shoulders, as he’d done a dozen times before. “But I was the last.”
She replied in a flat voice, playing him up. “Unfortunately.’
*
So that was how it went on. They goofed off on set and made each other laugh, her deadpanning every insult and him doing his best to be ridiculous. No one around them was surprised, as this was pretty much their reputations, respectively. It worked well for all parties involved, because even when they screwed around, it never got too ridiculous, and when it mattered, they both hunkered down and got the job done. And well.
Two weeks later, she approached Jared as he headed to his trailer, him finished for the day. “So, I was thinking.”
He came close, rubbing a hand over the back of her head for fun, but not so much as to mess up her camera-ready hair. “What’s up?”
Cameron pushed at his side enough to tell him to stop mussing her up. “We’re shooting 312 tomorrow.” That scene was the first kiss for the characters, and really Cameron’s first on film. She’d had some general kisses happen in movies, but they weren’t very involved, and seemed chaste between an established couple. Not anything that began one. “We need to get drunk tonight and figure it out.”
Jared laughed. “Is your answer to every socially awkward situation drinking?”
She flipped her eyebrows. “Is there any other alternative?”
He crossed his arms, leaning a hip against the trailer. “What, so we drunkenly make out and then you feel more comfortable doing camera sex? I thought you didn’t do method?”
Her face was smooth but flat. “We are not making out tonight. But being hungover tomorrow will make things feel a little less tense, I think.”
His voice went up a little. “Why don’t we just drink tomorrow?”
“I, Jared, am a professional. No drinking on the job.”
“But you want to drink to prepare?”
She watched him climb the steps to his door. When he looked back to her, she hung her hands on her hips. “You are so anti-social I cannot stand it.”
“Man, I’m like the most social person on this set. You should be proud to have someone like me around to make your day easier."
Cameron rolled her eyes and began to walk away. She stopped and faced him again. “So, no drinking tonight?”
He smiled. “I think you have a problem. Maybe instead of 312, we should just have an AA meeting. We don’t have to film it, but it might help.”
“Whatever,” she muttered, finally going away.
Jared called out, “Don’t worry, I’ll brush my teeth and everything.”
She threw a hand in the air for a lazy wave.
“I’ll even think about deodorant. Maybe a shower. But that’s kind of stretching it.”
*
Cameron was kind of scared. Instead of prepping herself early to hang around set and be with everyone, she made sure to take her time in wardrobe and in hair and makeup just so she wouldn’t run into him. She was pretty worried about how it would all go. As good as she thought - and sometimes knew - she was on film, she had a hard time believing she could successfully execute a choreographed make out session, again and again and again. And again. She was mostly worried that she might get into it and let her tongue out of the bag. She did that once with Seth Rogen, and while he totally seemed cool with it that whole gang still laugh and send her random texts about it. She kind of hates some of her friends.
When she arrived on set, Jared found her immediately and came forward. “Hey, come here,” he smiled, and it looked comforting, not mocking or cocky. For once. She appreciated that. He rubbed a hand at her back before guiding her to the side. “You okay? You look freaked.”
She tried to steel herself and joke about it all, but her voice came out more nervous than she had planned. “Word of caution. I may slip you the tongue, but I totally don’t mean it.”
The corner of his mouth tipped up. “Well, now you’re just bruising my ego.”
“It needs a little deflating. Trust me.”
He laughed, but definitely took into account that even while she was joking in her regular manner, she looked a bit horrified when she saw the bed. His hands bracketed her face and tipped it towards him. Then he smoothed his palms over her bare shoulders. “Hey, you know what? You’re absolutely awesome and beautiful and I have been looking forward to this all week. I may have to slip you the tongue first, just so everyone still thinks I’m straight.”
Their smiles spread at about the same time before she laughed. “I’m a fucking loser. I get to make out with Jared Padalecki over and over and over again, and I’m freaking terrified.”
Now his hands held her upper arms while he raised an eyebrow. “Okay, you know what? You really need to get over the fact that I’m ridiculously good-looking. It ain’t going away. I’m getting better with age.”
“I don’t know how anyone can stand you for more than an hour.”
“I told you, I’m absolutely charming.”
She rolled her eyes and tried to move away. “You’re fucking torturing me with your ego. It is literally suffocating me.” Being able to slip back into the mockery, she felt the load lift off her shoulders. She called out to the others around them, “Can we do this already? His breath smells like Egg McMuffins and wet dog.”
Jared laughed, patting a hand at her back as they moved to the bed.
She did feel better, but it wasn’t exactly easy. After 20 minutes, her lips were chapped and she begged someone to track down her Chapstick in her trailer. And the director kept moving them closer and closer with each shot, wanting them to be as close as possible, showing the melding of the two characters. They laid side-by-side, an arm under her and another up her side, while her hands held his face. Time and time again, they slowly brushed their mouths together, testing the other, before finally letting go and sucking the skin off the others lips, as directed. His hands gripped tight at her middle back, roaming the cotton of her tank top. Another time, his long arm reached high enough for his large hand and fingers to grab at her neck.
If she was being honest with herself, all of his touches were kind of turning her on. But she steeled herself best she could and moved away every time they called cut. Only to move back in when they said action. About an hour later, she could feel herself tire from the mental exhaustion of it all. Placing her internal sensations to the side as she did as instructed. But as she had warned, at one point, her tongue fell out of her mouth and touched his through their fake open-mouth kiss. The alarming point was when he pushed right back, his hand groping her side before slipping just beneath her tank top. With her eyes clenched tight, she felt herself unconsciously press against him as he pushed back and their kissing slowed, into a real rhythm, not one documented by a script or storyboards. Her head tilted one way, his went the other. His tongue flipped around hers and she pressed in tighter as their legs began a slow tangle under the sheets.
“Cut!”
She froze, in that instant, reminded that they were in fact filming, on set, with about 20 people around them. He laughed into her mouth and pulled away, lightly tapping his palm at her back. “Way to go, Cam.”
“Guys!” the director called out from his chair 40 feet away. “That was great! Shit, that energy!”
No one ever really called her Cam, it just had never happened. Her core group of friends back home called her CJ for obvious reasons, and a smattering of other ridiculous names because it used to drive her crazy. She usually fended off anything but CJ, just because it felt weird. Cam had never been a thought. But she liked it right then.
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